• Forest for the Trees
  • THE FOREST FOR THE TREES is about writing, publishing and what makes writers tick. This blog is dedicated to the self loathing that afflicts most writers. A community of like-minded malcontents gather here. I post less frequently now, but hopefully with as much vitriol. Please join in! Gluttons for punishment can scroll through the archives.

    If I’ve learned one thing about writers, it’s this: we really are all alone. Thanks for reading. Love, Betsy

Nothing Compares 2 U

It’s official. I’m a simile slut. I don’t know when to stop. If I can compare something to anything else, I will. Given the chance to use “like” or “as” I’m all over that shit. Look, I spent 40K on a poetry MFA, what the hell else am I gonna do. My editor (yes, ahem, working on ye olde first novel, lol) has pointed it out, exasperation all over the margin notes. An early reader also commented on the PLETHORA ( a word I hate that reminds me of lady parts) of similes: “If the simile is not precise, it fails to do the job it was meant to do and draws attention to the artifice that’s taking place.” Busted. So true. The simile must thread the needle, you know, the one in the haystack. I’m off my fucking rocker with this revision. Please stop me before I kill again.

Similes, talk to me. Pro? Con? Like? As?

Credit: Owlcation

Old Friend, Why Are You So Shy?

What does a workaholic do on vacation? How does a workaholic know when vacation’s over? How hard does the rain have to fall? I can still remember the first day of school after summer, pretending not to be excited, but secretly so happy to be back behind a desk, the smell of new supplies, new books, watching a new teacher try to make an impression. My mother’s sandwiches in tin foil, a piece of fruit banging around in my lunch box. I did four loads of laundry when we got home and walled off.

When you say you’re not good at something, what do you mean?

Is It Hard To Make Arrangements With Yourself

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B+.  I give myself a B+ for the tour. Guys, I did everything I could. Wore dresses, heels, make up and  bling. I flossed like a mother fucker. I met some incredible booksellers and librarians. And lots of bridge ladies with teased hair and leopard print tops, bags and shoes. Love talking no trump with the bitches of South Beach. I have to take some points off for forgetting to use sunscreen and eating for two. Missed you guys.

What’s the worst author reading you ever went to?

How Do You SOlve a Problem Like Maria

I’ve spent thirty years as an editor and now agent talking writers off the ledge. That’s what we do. And it’s never more intense than in the two months before publication when anything and nothing can happen. When all your hopes and dreams could fill a dirigible floating over the city. Your fears and anxieties florid and deranged.

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HOw do I talk people off the ledge. First, I remind them their book is awesome, how much work it took, their dedication, their craft, how worthwhile it is even before a single copy is sold. Then I tell them stories the way you tell children stories to keep the bogey man away or stories to make them feel hopeful, about little trains that could. Or little books that grew up into mighty oaks. I get them thinking about their next book, about their inner life as a writer, about the long distance race. If all this fails, I suggest, they go shopping, to the movies, mani/pedi, hit the gym, start tutoring kids. If you’re in therapy: stay. If you’re not: start.

When I try to talk myself off the ledge, I realize something very scary. I am the ledge. Any advice?

 

 

Don’t Tell Me Not To Live

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Last night, I had the great honor of escorting my friend and client George Hodgman to the National Book Critics Circle Awards; his book Bettyville was a finalist. Ittook place at New School’s beautiful auditorium that looks like the inside of a deco egg. It was a star-studded event. To the left of us, Helen McDonald sans hawk. Directly in front of me Paul Beatty who I’ve loved since his first book of poems. Wendell Berry seemed annoyed to be receiving a lifetime achievement award. Everywhere in attendance proud editors, agents and family members. Margo Jefferson’s memoir Negroland won in George’s category, autobiography. No complaint there, but still I have to admit that in the moment before the winner’s name is announced, I found myself hoping with the fervor of a small child making a birthday wish. We consoled and celebrated over a long and delicious dinner with friends where much publishing gossip was exchanged. A meal in itself. When I think about reading the first pages George shared with me and sitting with him last night, and all the work in between that went into Bettyville, I feel so fortunate. Publishing doesn’t always fuck you over,

They Say as a Child I Appeared a Little Bit Wild

 

tumblr_m5agp4ws751rxiaoto1_500Someone recently asked me if I felt anxious about the book coming out because it is so personal. Get to know me. I’m anxious because it might not sell. I’m anxious because the New York Times might say mean things, or worse say nothing at all. I’m anxious because if I fail it’s not only in front of my friends and family, but the publishing profession where I work. I’m anxious because I’m not in therapy and I probably should be. I’m anxious because I don’t feel like myself, meaning I feel a little hopeful and that is just not part of the package.  I’m anxious because it’s all out of my hands now with the exception of boosting Facebook pages and going up and down Fifth avenue in the sandwich boards I’ve made with the Queen of Hearts on both sides.

What makes you anxious about getting your work out there? What’s your worst fear?

Long as I Know How to Love I Know I’ll Stay Alive

08hodgman3-master18051q6c2lxz4l-_sx329_bo1204203200_Congratulations to my dear friend and client GEORGE HODGMAN on his NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE nomination. New York Times Bestseller Bettyville available in paperback  March.

Are you the kind of person who prepares his acceptance speech or wings it?

My Dream It Lingered Near

 

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Three years ago, I started working on a new book. It was going nowhere fast and my husband kept saying that I had to use my blog voice. My what? My sociopath voice? My whiney vaginey voice? My pitted, potted, sometimes besotted voice. My childlike wonder, my hemorrhoidal idyll, my knock knock give a dog a bone. Short story long: my new book is coming out in May, 2016. It wouldn’t exist if not for the four years of writing here, the incredible love and support from our merry band. Even the guy who said he wanted to kill me and Patti Smith with a pitchfork. You gave me the chance to develop my voice, and as we say in these parts, I finished the fucker. Will say more about it soon. Until then, THANK YOU dearest readers of this blog. Love, Betsy

You’re Wearing Out Things That Nobody Wears

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No shit. Sebastian Junger shows up on The Affair. You know, the program I’m watching because I’m still in love with McNulty. Junger has a cameo. He plays himself and he says he claims to use reiki to help him write. Really? Let’s talk about this. I’ve never tried any alt methods to help with writing. On the contrary, I’ve always felt that writer’s block is god’s gift to man. I’m old school: the only thing that produces writing is writing. Plus, I love my demons way too much to release them. Plus, I’m ticklish.

What about you? Massage, meditation, yoga, long walks with a stick? What helps?

Stay With Me

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I want to create a TV show called THE VOICE which will based on THE VOICE. The four judges will be George Saunders, Marianne Moore, Marilyn Robinson and Don Delillo. Writers will have 2-3 minutes to read from their work. IF the judges like the work they will hit the button and their chairs will turn. Then they will coach you and possibly give you a blurb.

Who would you choose for a coach? And why?